


Awaken to the Sound of Drums

by almostblue (fictionalaspect)



Series: Awaken to the Sound of Drums [1]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: A story about a boy, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Band Family, Band Fic, Coming of Age, Explicit Sexual Content, First Love, Future Fic, Growing Up, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Music, Requited Love, Unrequited Love, dance, who grows up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/almostblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up is weird. </p><p>Growing up is even weirder when you're Choi Junhong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awaken to the Sound of Drums

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts when Junhong/Zelo is 14, and ends when he's 18, so it diverges from canon in the sense that I just made shit up for the second half of the fic. 
> 
> This story contains underage characters exploring and experiencing their sexuality in a realistic way. **For more specific information containing spoilers, see the end for more notes.**
> 
> Thank you to roebling and bictory for helping and encouraging this one <333 I (quite literally) would not have finished this story without you. <3

  
Choi Junhong moves into the dorms at TS when he's 14, more wide-eyed than he wants to admit. His hyungs are both six years older than him. Himchan hyung is on MTV and Yongguk hyung is a real rapper and Junhong shows up carrying his skateboard, but fuck it, he's going to be where they are. He's giving up everything he's ever known to be here, including his parents and his hyung. He's going to make his parents proud.

He's going to show them all, even if Yongguk and Himchan still look a bit dubiously at him when he first arrives, dragging a bag that's almost as big as he is.

They'll see.

—

Junhong's life goes from practice-writing-school-writing-practice to essentially the same thing, with less school and more practice. He sleeps five hours a night and cleans up after the hyungs, does the dishes and keeps the dorms neat. He learns how to do laundry, how to pre-soak stains and run the different cycles and how not to ruin the shirts that say "dry-clean only."

He learns how to separate and fold and iron. He learns that Himchan hyung sleeps naked and rarely wears shirts in the dorms unless he has to. He learns that Yongguk only wears one brand of underwear. He learns that if he messes it up and puts the wrong clothes in the wrong drawers both hyungs will laugh at him. Not meanly—but they will, as though he's missed something important. He sees Jongup hyung every day at practice but since Jongup hyung is still in school he won't be moving in for another few months. It's just Junhong and two of his idols, living on rice and ramen and trying to figure out how this is going to work.

Anyway, doing the laundry is weird.

Not quite as weird as brushing his teeth in the same sink as Bang Yongguk, but weird all the same.

—

Himchan hyung is friendlier than Yongguk hyung. He's louder. He says whatever he's thinking and sometimes fills in the gaps when Yongguk doesn't respond, carrying both sides of the conversation. Junhong understands. When it's just him and Yongguk, they don't talk much except about music. Junhong has so many words inside his head that he's never sure which ones are going to spill out, so it's always seemed wiser to keep quiet or else he'll ramble incessantly until someone tells him to shut up. He wonders if Yongguk might have the same problem.

Once they've settled in, Junhong learns that Himchan is the kind of hyung who likes to tease his dongsaengs. One time he finds his pillow superglued to his sheets. He stumbles to the bathroom in the middle of the night only to find that Himchan has covered the toilet in clear plastic wrap, and he gets piss all over himself and has to shower again.

Himchan hyung is kind of a dick, but he also buys Junhong snacks every day and hides them in Junhong's backpack so it's hard to hate him.

—

An overheard conversation, spoken too loudly through an open door, Junhong's arms still up to his elbows in dirty sink water:

"Himchan, don't you dare—"

"He has to learn sometime."

"No he doesn't. There are plenty of idols who don't. There are plenty of people who—"

"And how would _you_ know?"

Sounds of a tussle. Himchan's laughter.

"Don't," Yongguk hyung says eventually. He's laughing as well, but he's trying to be serious. "He's too young. Give him time. He's fine, Himchan. It's not bothering him. Don't make trouble where there isn't any."

Junhong stares down at the rice bowl in his hand and wonders what they're talking about.

—

Junhong wakes up too early one morning. Early enough that even Yongguk's alarm hasn't gone off yet—their dorm is still orange and blue in the light from the Seoul night, fading quickly but melting everything inside into a pale gray.

Junhong opens his eyes and by the time he understands what he's seeing it's already too late to pretend he hasn't seen it, so he looks anyway. Himchan hyung is sleeping on his back, covers kicked down, one arm thrown up over his head and face turned away.

Junhong looks because Junhong's not awake yet, and because he's never really had the chance to. Himchan hyung is thin and delicate, smooth all over to the point where Junhong understands that it has to be vanity, that no man of 21 is actually that hairless. _Junhong's_ not that hairless. Himchan hyung is weird about stuff like that. He wears makeup even when he doesn't have to, and he spends so long in the mirror before they go out that Yongguk hyung has to yell for him every time.

In the pre-dawn light Himchan's skin looks like milk, like butter. Like it would be creamy to the touch.

Junhong rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes, ignoring his stomach and his spine and everything else that just awoke to that image. He's not going to reach out and touch Himchan hyung. He's going to close his eyes and breathe deep and low, in and out, until his body settles and he falls back asleep.

—

Youngjae hyung moves in, and then Jongup hyung, and then finally Daehyun hyung, tiny and insatiable. Suddenly there is no food in the fridge, and Junhong keeps getting sent out to buy more and more until the culprit is revealed and forced to do the shopping himself.

Junhong writes lyrics on the cardboard backs of ramen packets, on convenience store receipts, on the insides of his arms when he runs out of paper and they're at practice and there's no time to grab anything else. His notebooks are full. He and Yongguk hyung are recording together and there's still dance practice and idol practice and he learns how to shoot a video and how to sit in a chair for hours while a stylist noona bleaches his hair and curls it and does everything she can to make Junhong's eyes water.

Junhong actually does walk into something on set the first time he sees Hyosung in person, which makes everyone laugh and the director immediately decide to shoot it like that. Junhong didn't mean to, it's just that she's so pretty, like a doll, and her hair is purple and when she hugs him after he's completely embarrassed himself she smells like flowers.

Junhong starts keeping six to eight pens on him at all times and writes on the backs of his arms when his stylist noona isn't looking. He's covered by a plastic cape, so she can't see. He gets yelled at—politely—for tapping his toes and not staying still and not letting his hardworking noonas do their job.

Junhong learns how to shoot a fake documentary while acting like they're not shooting a fake documentary. At least all he has to do is pretend to be a robot. He doesn't envy the rest of his hyungs. He's only ever funny on camera when he isn't trying to be.

He's working sixteen, eighteen, twenty four hour days. He didn't know it would be like this. There's nothing else he wants to be doing, but he didn't know it would be like this.

He also doesn't know why he can't sleep.

—

Whenever Junhong felt like this before, he would lie on his bed and turn his headphones up as loud as they could go, until the music reverberated through his whole body. He would let the beat thrum through him until he forgot that he was Junhong, forgot everything except the sound of the next tone, the next sample, the next rhyme.

Junhong isn't stupid. He knows what he's feeling. He's 15 and he lives in a dorm with five other hyungs, and even if the idea of actually touching another person still totally weirds him out he can at least understand that it's a good idea in theory. Neither Himchan nor Yongguk say very much on the topic either way, but the way they phrase their silences says more than words ever could. Both of them remain carefully calm and neutral whenever the other dongsaengs bring it up. Sometimes Junhong catches Himchan grinning to himself, like he can't believe the pabos he's living with but he's not going to say anything. Yongguk refuses to comment on the topic other than to remind them—when the commentary gets too bawdy—that they should all be respectful of women and also should probably shut the hell up. He never really has to verbalize the last part, but they get the gist.

Junhong thinks if he ever has to ask anyone about sex, he'll probably ask Himchan. Asking Yongguk feels too much like asking his dad. Besides, Himchan keeps slapping his ass and making Junhong blush and like, _feeling things_ when he does it, and he knows Himchan is just doing it to terrorize him, but it still seems like he'd be more open to talking about things than Yongguk.

But honestly, he's doing fine on his own—he's already had to deal with wet dreams and he's always getting hard at awful, inconvenient times and mostly he wishes his body would just shut the hell up for a while so he could get some work done. Himchan isn't going to be able to help him with that.

Junhong thinks sex is probably like music but that means that music is also sex and Junhong only has time for one side of that coin. He's made his choices. The rest of his hyungs can keep wondering what the cute checkout girl down at the 7-11 at the corner looks like with her top off. Junhong really isn't interested.

—

After Jongup hyung moves in—eventually, once they're close enough to just start hanging out together even when they don't have to practice—Junhong learns that dancing is also sex. He's always known that he can push his body, that it's strong and wants to move and quick to learn. But Jongup hyung is something different. Junhong can't believe how strong he is. He knows Jongup hyung is two years older than he is—

(he's 15 by now, a birthday cake at the studio before another showcase stage and Hyosung pretending to kiss him on the cheek. Junhong had frozen into a solid block of terror. It took four bites for him to taste the cake, and the entire ride down for him to stop feeling weird)

—but Junhong knows his body can do it if he just works harder, if he eats more protein, if he borrows Yongguk hyung's weights. He wants to be as good at rapping at Yongguk hyung and he wants to be as good of a dancer as Jongup hyung is. Himchan hyung teases him about having a crush, and Junhong doesn't understand at all. Jongup is a boy - how could Junhong have a crush on him? He decides Himchan hyung is just jealous because Junhong likes him more than Himchan.

(Mostly).

Dancing is fun and dancing is sex and Junhong didn't know about it this way before. It's like he understood it with his head—his hand here, one-and-two-and-drop-and-STEP-and—but he didn't understand it with his body until Jongup showed him how to ignore everything he's been taught in choreo and just move the way the tightness inside him wants to move.

Their stages immediately improve, and Manager Kang is happy with them. Yongguk looks tired all the time but he's radiating determined energy, like he's in this for the long haul. He tells Jongup and Junhong to keep practicing.

Everything aches and burns and he just keeps going. He still wants more. He lies awake at night and counts the nonexistent stars on their ceiling and feels the way his stomach pulls and shakes, like there's something inside of him that wants to claw its way out.

—

It gets worse on the road, not better. Junhong doesn't know why he thought it would get better, but he did. He thought it was just nerves—anticipation—that desperate, desperate need to get out there and prove himself.

He spends days in cars, in vans, in airplanes, in hotels. He gets used to sitting still in chairs while someone pulls at his hair and lines his eyes and tells him his skin is perfect, that all he needs is powder. He gets used to girls screaming his name.

When TV hosts ask him if he likes being the maknae, if the others torture him, he ignores the superglue incident and says that he does. He remembers both Himchan and Yongguk coming up to him separately when he first moved in, both telling him that if he ever needed anything— _ever_ —that he could come to them.

The rest of his hyungs are the same—maybe he gets teased, but he also knows he's spoiled. There's always someone watching to make sure he doesn't wander off when he's lost in his own head. There's always someone watching his back, or staying up with him when he can't sleep. He never feels alone, and he's starting to realize that that's rare.

—

Jongup wipes the sweat off his face and raises his eyes to the ceiling. He's too nice to say anything out loud, but Junhong knows he's probably internally cursing all the gods and stupid maknaes who can't get a simple eight-count right even after being shown it at least four times.

Junhong wipes his own face off, and doesn't look at the clock. It's past 10pm - that's all he knows, and all he wants to know. He feels less tired when he's not counting the hours until they have to get up tomorrow. Everyone else is back at the dorms but they're still here, still rehearsing their stage for tomorrow because it's just _not right yet_ and they both know it's Junhong's fault.

"Show me," Jongup hyung says, patience restored, stepping back so he can see Junhong both in the mirror and from behind. "Show me one more time."

Junhong wants to tell himself it's not his fault, that what Jongup hyung is teaching him is difficult and fast and that there's literally no one else in the band who could even learn it. And maybe all of those things are true, but he's still angry at himself for not getting it sooner.

"Okay," Jongup hyung says, after watching him closely, making him repeat it twice more. "No, it's okay. I see it."

"Hyung, what am I doing wrong?"

"It's your hips," Jongup hyung says. "Your training is working against you. I know we always pop them in the choreo but for this you have to soften it up or you're going to be late on the beat. I don't think it's possible to do this one with the sharp hips." _I bet I could_ , Junhong thinks, but he laughs anyway when Jongup punctuates his statement with a razor-sharp hip slide, tossing his short hair around.

"So B-boy style," Junhong says, pushing his hair off his face. Sweat is dripping down his neck.

"Yeah," Jongup hyung says. "Just—here. Do you care if I...?"

"No," Junhong says. "It's fine, whatever." He's taller than Jongup hyung but Jongup rests his head on Junhong's shoulder, chest to back, his hands warm on Junhong's hips through the fabric of his shorts. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Junhong nods.

"One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and—"

The only way to follow along is to soften up, so Junhong does. He lets Jongup hyung lead and when they're done with that 8-count they keep going, and each time that hip slide gets a little easier, a little softer. Junhong tries to concentrate on the steps, tries to keep his mind on the choreo and not the way his heart is pounding. He didn't realize. He's at a stupid dance practice with Jongup hyung and this might be the most intimate way someone has ever touched him. Jongup is rolling his hips and his breath is ghosting over Junhong's neck and when they finish Junhong has to look at the floor for a long moment before he can begin to meet Jongup hyung's eyes. He knows his cheeks are bright red.

"See?" Jongup hyung says, stepping away and smiling at him, proud and pleased. "I told you. Let's go home, we'll do it again tomorrow."

"But not like that," Junhong says, panic rising in his chest. He can't imagine doing that with Jongup hyung in front of everyone. "Right?"

"No," Jongup hyung says, laughing and mussing up Junhong's hair. "Not like that, pabo. You've got it now, you don't need me to show you again."

 _But I want you to_ , Junhong thinks as they grab their stuff and tiredly lean against the wall in the corridor, waiting for the elevator to come. _I want you to, I want you to._

_—_

Junhong starts picking out female fans at each of their shows, flirting with them, turning the charm on. He smiles up at pretty girls at fan signings and tries to imagine dancing with one of them the way Jongup hyung danced with him. He even skims through the dirty magazine that Youngjae's brother mails him on his birthday, hidden deep inside a pair of new shoes wrapped in a sweatshirt. Youngjae turns bright red and claps his hand over his mouth. Junhong laughs so hard his sides hurt, and even more when Himchan "confiscates" it, telling Youngjae that he's much too young to be seeing such filth. Everyone is hysterical over it. Maybe they're all just sleep deprived, but it's the funniest thing that's happened in weeks.

No one throws it out, though. Somehow it finds its way to the cabinet under the bathroom sink and Junhong doesn't ask questions but he does page through it one day before showering. He's itchy and restless under his skin, and he pulls it out without really thinking about it.

It's...graphic, that's for sure. Junhong feels kind of stupid but he really, honestly didn't know everything looked like...that. And it's not bad, the girls are pretty and they're kissing each other and they're—

Junhong turns the page.

—okay, they're doing _that_ , with each other, and wow, Junhong didn't really think anyone did that. And if they're both girls...then maybe he could...

Would it really be so bad if something like that happened with guys...?

Junhong suddenly drops the magazine, tearing the page before he even realizes he's doing it. His heart is pounding and his stomach hurts and he's hard. His throat feels like he's going to cry. He won't, because he hasn't cried since he was 9, but as he turns the shower tap to freezing cold he thinks that some day very soon he might.

—

Junhong turns 16 in a backstage lounge, with all of SECRET there to greet him and make him blush and duck his head. Hyosang pinches his cheeks and tells him about how cute he's getting, and then Himchan ducks in and somehow there's a picture of _both_ of them kissing him on either cheek, his terrified expression plain for all to see. Even Junhong has to agree that it's hilarious, and he saves a copy of it on his phone as his background.

There's cake and soda and a swarm of people, makeup noonas and techs and backup dancers all crammed into a tiny room to congratulate him. Junhong's face hurts from smiling. He feels like his laughter is going to bubble out of his chest and fly away like a hummingbird.

Yongguk hyung ushers everyone out eventually, calling for a "Band meeting! Thank you, thank you, ten minutes! We promise!"

Himchan has already procured a large flask and paper cups from his bag as soon as Yongguk has closed the door to their dressing room, and he begins pouring out soju in quick, sloppy bursts. The cups aren't that big, but they're big enough. There's at least two shots in each of them.

Himchan lines them all up on the table, and then raises his own. "To our very own maknae," he says, smiling widely. "Congratulations—-and don't fuck it up!"

Everyone laughs, grabbing their own glasses as Yongguk rolls his eyes and pulls his cup forward for what Junhong assumes is the actual toast. There's still one glass sitting on the table, and Junhong takes it hesitantly. His pulse is pounding in his veins, a happy throb of melodies. His hyungs don't drink much, and when they do they've definitely never let Junhong have any.

"You've worked very hard," Yongguk says seriously, making eye contact with Junhong in that way he always does when he's trying to make sure the other person knows he's being very sincere. As though there are time when Yongguk isn't always too sincere. "In many ways you've worked harder than all of us. We are all proud to have you as our maknae, now and for the years to come. Gon-bae!"

Junhong grins, a smile forming around his paper cup as he throws his drink back with the rest of them. It take him two tries—there's a lot of soju—but once he manages it he sets it down firmly, setting off a round of applause from his band members.

"Now eat more cake," Himchan says firmly, nudging the half-eaten confection towards him. "It will soak up the booze."

"What's the point of drinking if I can't enjoy it?" Junhong says, frowning.

"Oh you'll enjoy it," Youngjae laughs, squeezing his hand on Junhong's shoulder. "That was at least two shots, if not more. We need you to eat some cake so you're not so drunk you don't fall over on stage."

"I would never fall over on stage," Junhong says, but maybe Youngjae's right because the alcohol is starting to hit him. He feels pleasantly lightheaded.

"Caaaake," Daehyun says, pushing it in front of Junhong and helping himself to another slice. "Come on, it's your coming of age day. Live a little."

Junhong shrugs, and eats the cake. He knows his celebration isn't over - there's the fan gifts, to start with, and then presents from his band and probably something embarrassing planned for him on stage.

Somehow, he doesn't quite seem to mind.

—

Sixteen passes quickly, lost in a haze of tours and shows that Junhong never thought in his wildest dreams they would get to play. They do a full tour of America, both coasts, five cities and enough time off that they get to sightsee, even if they're still always followed by the crew and usually some fans as well.

Live On Earth is a large tour even by American standards, and Junhong loses track of all the equipment and stage techs and crew and coordinators and music techs that are traveling with them. On top of that, there's the local venue staff, and he can't communicate with any of them except for very, very limited questions about where the bathroom is, and if he's allowed to be in this area. He tries to be polite to everyone and practices his English. He understands maybe 40% of the responses, but he feels like that's really not bad, considering everyone is usually speaking rapidly and loudly.

The shows are fun—a mixture of old and new songs but with new stages, new duets, and new costumes. The American fans are loud and fun and boisterous. Junhong can feel the energy coming off of them in waves, and he can't help but throw some back in return. He loves them. He wants to tour here all the time. They do a full tour of America, both coasts, five cities (four cities, officially, Junhong has to remember to keep his mouth shut) and enough time off that they get to sightsee, even if they're still always followed by the crew and usually some fans as well

But sometimes they aren't, and it's in those rare, brief moments that Junhong thinks he might be the happiest person in the world. Los Angeles is sunny and breezy and Junhong wants to lie for days in the sunshine and learn to surf and ride his skateboard down by Venice beach.

He only gets to do one of those things with their insanely busy schedule, but it's so nice to be here, so amazing, that he doesn't really care.

San Francisco is breezy and cool, a city on a peninsula which almost reminds him of home. Yongguk loves it and won't stop taking pictures. Himchan uses the "cold" as an excuse to buy more clothing, and Daehyun and Youngjae disappear into Chinatown for hours while the others are filming, coming back slightly drunk and complaining of stomach aches with happy, flushed faces.

Las Vegas is a blur of neon. They arrive at night and they shoot at night and Junhong doesn't see the sun for three whole days. Yongguk hasn't even mastered the song yet—he's still not happy with it, still tinkering, still sending files back to Seoul every night—but they sing along because all of the important parts are there.  
Junhong hates his hair and his tux and loves the breakdown. He loves watching Jongup own the moves they've practiced together so many times. He loves the way their style is turning into something different and new, something only the two of them share. He laughs when Jongup's hat falls off, and Jongup just grins at him.  
They don't see much of Washington D.C., but they do get almost four whole days in New York - the evening they arrive, a day of performances at MTV Korea in Times Square, their NYC Concert, and then their MTVK graffiti shoot and the rest of their Coffee Shop shoots.

Junhong hadn't realized how much he appreciated being able to blend into a crowd until he couldn't anymore. In New York he's either surrounded, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fans, or he's completely anonymous, walking around with Jongup and sipping hot chocolate while they wait for Yongguk to finish filming in Washington Square Park. In front of them, under an awning, Himchan is taking selcas with some of his new purchases, making Youngjae take them again and again until he's satisfied. He wants to steal Jongup and go buy some hideous American memorabilia, and Junhong lets them go and tags along with Youngjae and Daehyun until they're done filming and they can all go on to their next appointment.

By the time they hit Japan, though, even Junhong is starting to feel weary. They've been on the road with a punishing schedule for over two weeks straight, and the lack of sleep is starting to get to them all. He eats as much sushi as he can possibly stuff himself with—protein for energy, Daehyun tells him seriously—and switches to a more caffeinated version of the energy drinks they've all been chugging. He didn't actually know a more caffeinated version existed, but they _are_ in Japan.

The last night, they get drunk on sake after the show, toasting the tour and each other again and again. No one's watching how much Junhong drinks, so he takes full advantage and gets fully, entirely drunk for the first time. He experiences the odd sensation of not being able to feel his hands and of finding everything that Yongguk says hilarious. He falls into his bed four hours before their wakeup call and thinks that his hotel room really should have the courtesy to stop spinning.

—

A conversation that Junhong isn't supposed to hear, spoken carelessly at 2am when no one else is supposed to be awake:

"I can't believe you—ugh," Daehyun says, in a harsh whisper. "That was my _shirt_ , you asshole."

"You left it in my bunk," Youngjae says. His voice is breathy, slowing down into a lazy curl as he finishes panting. "What am I supposed to use, the sheets?"

"I don't know, maybe you could get up and go to the bathroom like a civilized human being?"

"I'm too tired," Youngjae slurs, his mattress creaking as he rolls over. "Whatever. I'll deal with it in the morning."

"Don't let Junhong find it," Daehyun says, rustling around in the dark. "Put it in the bottom of the laundry or you know he'll ask questions."

"Mmmhmm."

"Fine, whatever, go to sleep," Daehyun says, sounding annoyed. "I'll just, you know. Be here. Waiting."

"I promise I'll make a scene and fall out of bed or something if someone wakes up and it looks like you're going to get caught," Youngjae says crankily. "Now shut up and get off, I'm so fucking tired."

"Don't listen."

"Do I ever listen?" Youngjae says, and Junhong can hear the faint souds of music coming from his iPod. He must have only one earbud in.

"Whatever," Daehyun says, and sighs.

Junhong closes his eyes. He wants to listen and he doesn't want to listen, and once he hears a hitch and a whimper in Daehyun's breathing he slips his own headphones in.

It just—doesn't seem right, that's all. It's something private, a pact between best friends that Junhong doesn't really understand but knows he needs to keep secret.

Youngjae's sudden moan had been the only thing to wake him up. He needs to give Daehyun the same courtesy.

—

Another conversation, two weeks later, after Junhong's been in a bad mood since they came home. He's sullen during interviews and too cocky at practice. He's angry all the time at really stupid things, but he can't get mad because he's the cute little maknae so he just pushes it down.

"You need to talk to him," Yongguk hyung says, and he sounds annoyed. Junhong presses closer to the door to the kitchen, left open a crack. He can see Himchan hyung leaning up against the countertop, drinking a glass of water. Every time he tips his head back his Adam's apple bobs, keeping time with his long swallows.

"And say what?" Himchan says, sounding bored, like he's already over this conversation and just waiting for Yongguk to realize the fact.

"I don't know," Yongguk says. "I don't know. How do I yell at him for being sixteen?"

"You yell at him to be a better dongsaeng, and then you spank him with a ruler in front of the class," Himchan says. Yongguk cracks a smile.

"Why do I get the feeling you'd enjoy that," he says, shaking his head.

"Because I'm a pervert and I probably would, we both know that," Himchan says, setting his glass down in the sink. "You really want me to talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"You don't want to just pull rank and tell him to get his shit together?"

"He'll open up more to you," Yongguk says. "He likes you better anyway."

"I know," Himchan says, sounds curious. "I've always wondered why. He really doesn't have any reason to. "

"It's your natural maternal instincts."

"Fuck you," Himchan laughs, tugging Yongguk's baseball cap down over his forehead. Yongguk swats him away, smacking him on the ass for good measure as he walks by.

Himchan yelps, and Yongguk starts snickering again.

—

"Come up to the roof," Himchan hyung says, and Junhong follows him.

He doesn't say anything about overhearing Himchan's conversation earlier with Yongguk. He knows he's been a pain in the ass lately. He deserves whatever Himchan's about to deal out to him. It's like his skin is on fire, and he can't help trying to spread the flames.

He just doesn't know how much more space he has to keep everything inside.

At least Himchan's not holding a ruler.

They walk up the stairs to the roof in silence, and Himchan holds the door open for him. Junhong walks through, ducking under Himchan's arm even though it means he has to bend almost in half.

Himchan hyung sits down cross-legged on the brick, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Junhong knows he smokes occasionally. They all smell it on him from time to time. He knows Yongguk doesn't like it, but he also occasionally smells it on Youngjae and Dae so obviously Yongguk isn't enforcing their no-smoking rule very ruthlessly.

"You want one?" Himchan says, holding the back out as he fumbles in his pocket for a lighter.

Junhong shrugs, reaching out and pulling one out of the pack.

"Don't inhale," Himchan says, lighting his own and then reaching over to light Junhong's. It takes a minute for Junhong to get the hang of it, and then all of a sudden he's choking and coughing, doubled over and clutching his chest.

"I told you not to inhale," Himchan says. "Just hold the smoke in your mouth, and then blow it out. It's better for you that way."

"Do you inhale?" Junhong says, trying it again. He's better at it this time. He blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth, and thinks he probably looks pretty cool. Himchan definitely has the art of 'looking cool while smoking' down to a science. In the neon lights of the Seoul night he looks like he should be in a film noir.

"Yes," Himchan says. He sucks another drag into his lungs.

—

"I know Yongguk told you to talk to me," Junhong finally says, after he can't stand waiting any longer. Himchan seems content to just hang out and smoke and ramble to Junhong about whatever he feels like talking about. Right now, it's a pair of sneakers that he wants, but he isn't sure he should buy because shipping them to Korea will be almost as much as the sneakers themselves.

"Listening at doors isn't polite." Himchan hyung sucks in a drag. His cheeks hollow.

"The door wasn't closed."

"Junhong," Himchan says, leaning forward and stubbing his cigarette out on the pavement. "Do you jerk off?"

Junhong stares at him, cigarette in his hand forgotten.

"I'm serious," Himchan says, using his hyung voice. "That was a question, answer it."

"No," Junhong says. He looks down at his feet.

"You should start," Himchan says. "You'll be less stressed out. I know people say it's wrong, but they're not idols. No one can get through this kind of job without it. At least no one I know."

"I—" Junhong opens his mouth, and then realized he has no idea what to say. He stubs his own cigarette out, the same way he saw Himchan hyung do it. "I don't know how." His cheeks are flaming, heat rising up in his stomach and chest.

"Yes you do," Himchan says. He winks at Junhong. "You grab your dick, and then you—"

"I mean it doesn't _work_ ," Junhong says, cutting him off, not caring about how rude he's being. This is probably his one chance to figure out what's wrong with himself and fix it somehow. Maybe Himchan hyung knows a way.

Himchan gives him a disbelieving look.

Junhong covers his face with his hands. His cheeks are on fire underneath his palms.

"It doesn't work when I think about girls," Junhong whispers.

"But you said you've never even done it," Himchan says, giving him an unreadable look. "How do you know it doesn't work?"

"I don't even..." Junhong gives up, throwing his hands up in the air. He wants to kick something. He wants to punch stupid Himchan hyung in his stupid face for even making him have this conversation. "I don't get hard, okay? There's something wrong with me. It only works when I think about..weird stuff. You have to tell me how to _fix it_."

"What kind of weird stuff?" Himchan raises an eyebrow.

"Guys," Junhong whispers, when he can't stand the silence any longer.

Himchan purses his lips.

"Huh," he says. "Really."

—

Himchan doesn't say anything else to Junhong about it until a week later, when he hands him a paper bag, the kind that magazines come in. It's taped shut.

"Put that in your bag," Himchan says, eyeing the doorway of the practice room. They're both standing in the mess of backpacks they all shove up against the wall while they're working. "Now. Before the others get back."

"What if I don't?"

Himchan starts laughing. "Or you could just open it up in front of the others and look at the gay porn I bought you. I mean, if that's what you really _want_ —"

"Hyung!"

"Need to make sure you're not defective," Himchan says, patting Junhong on the ass. His hand lingers slightly too long for comfort, and Junhong feels himself blushing again. "Tell me how it goes."

"Hyung, I hate you so much right now," Junhong says fervently.

"Most people do," Himchan says. He looks unconcerned.

—

Junhong can't believe that Himchan even bought him gay porn, like, _actual_ porn, on paper and everything. He doesn't know why Himchan couldn't have just given him a USB drive or something, but maybe Himchan figured this way he didn't have to like. _Look_ at it. He probably just went to a newsstand and pointed at random and had them package it up for him.

He falls asleep waiting for his shower, and then once everyone else is clean and getting ready for bed and Jongup shakes him awake again, he sneaks into the bathroom, backpack still in hand.

Junhong honestly just wants to go up to the roof and dump the package into one of the trash cans and burn it, but he tears the paper open anyway, just to see.

It's all in Japanese, but Junhong doesn't really need any translation.

The guys are young and handsome. There's obviously a pretense at actual content, but the whole point is really the pictorials. Junhong finds himself slowing down, turning the pages more carefully.

There's two younger guys—not that young, really, probably about Himchan hyung's age. They're wearing school uniforms and it's obviously supposed to be a tale of forbidden love, both of them sneaking into the locker rooms and undressing each other, kissing wet and open-mouthed. Junhong brushes a fingertip over the pages and suddenly wishes this was a video. He keeps expecting them to move or something. Their faces are artfully arranged in every shot; open, red lips and lashes closed against high cheekbones as they tip their heads back in ecstasy.

Junhong can feel himself getting hard. He bites his lip, and tugs the rest of his clothing off, dumping it on the floor. He knows he has time—everyone else is either doing their own thing, or asleep.

He sits down on the floor and makes himself read the whole magazine, starting at the beginning, looking at every picture. His breath is coming in sharp pants and he's painfully hard. Every time he brushes his arm over his cock to turn the page he gasps out loud at how good it feels, and then bites down.

He has to be quiet. He can't let anyone hear.

Junhong realizes halfway through that he's not going to make it, that he needs to do something about this _now_ before he just strokes himself once and ruins the magazine. He takes one last look at the open pages—one of the boys on his knees, mouth hanging open, the other behind him with two—two _fingers_ , _inside him,_ and Junhong barely manages to turn the shower on before he's leaning back against the tiles and stroking himself.

He's so turned on that he's shaking. He can't breathe and he can't think and he's never felt anything like this—faint echoes, maybe, but nothing like this. Nothing like the thrumming of his blood in his veins as he rubs his fingers over the aching, swollen head of his cock and then comes with a cry.

 _Five strokes,_ Junhong thinks hazily, as he tries to stay upright, slumping against the tile, hoping against hope that no one heard that because has no idea how loud he was. It only took him five long strokes.

At least he's not totally defective.

—

"Here," Junhong says, holding out the magazines, carefully wrapped back up in brown paper.

Himchan looks up from where he's using his laptop on his bed.

He wrinkles his nose.

"Uh, no," Himchan says. "You keep those. No need to return them. I have my own."

"I don't want them," Junhong says. Every single picture in those two magazines is burned into his brain now—he doesn't need the originals.

"Then throw them out," Himchan says. "Put them in a dumpster or something."

"Why aren't you interrogating me?" Junhong says suspiciously, because Himchan hasn't once asked him about it in the three days since he handed Junhong the package.

Himchan looks at Junhong over the top of his MacBook Air.

"I have ears," Himchan says, and raises an eyebrow.

"Hyung, you were _listening_?"

"You don't need to worry. I don't think the others heard. I just happened to be in the living room, that's all."

"You were just....sitting out there, like...waiting..." Junhong's face is on fire.

Himchan shrugs. "And checking my email. Look, I was just doing my duty as your hyung."

Junhong licks his lips. He can't—-he can't even with Himchan. He can't deal with him at all. What the _fuck_?

"What would you have done if I failed?" he asks incredulously. "Opened the door and offered to help?"

"Maybe," Himchan murmurs, meeting his eyes through lowered lashes. He's still typing on his computer keyboard, seemingly unconcerned. Junhong has no idea how Himchan can do that. He has to look at the screen while he's typing or he loses his place entirely. "Would you have wanted me to?"

Junhong freezes.

"Junhonggie-ah, you're not the only person alive who feels this way," Himchan says, shaking his head. He points his chin at the package in Junhong's hand. "How do you think those magazines stay in business? How do you think I knew where to buy them?"

"I don't know," Junhong manages. His chest is tight, like he can't get enough air. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well," Himchan says, giving Junhong one last, long once-over before going back to his screen. "Now you have all the time in the world." 

—

No one else comments on Junhong's abrupt change of mood except Jongup, who claps him on the back a week later during a water break and tells Junhong he seems much more relaxed, that it's good and Jongup is happy that he's worked his stuff out.

Junhong nods and tries not to think about how many times he's jerked off in the past week (thirteen) and how many times he's thought about some of his band members while jerking off (four times).

"I just needed to get my head straightened out," Junhong says, instead of asking Jongup what he really wants to know, which is _am I doing this too much? How often do you jerk off? Is that why you're so cool all the time? Do you do it in the shower, too?_

_When I shower after you, would you leave it on the wall for me?_

Junhong chokes on his water bottle, coughing and sputtering as his last thought catches up with him.

Jongup frowns and claps him on the back.

"Okay?" Jongup says. "Did you hiccup or something? I hate it when that happens."

"Yeah," Junhong says, still reeling. It's like he's unlocked something in his head and all of a sudden he's just like this, all the time. Every dirty thought he's kept pushed down his entire life just keeps rising to the surface. Now he can't stop thinking about Jongup jerking off in their shower and then smirking and just _leaving it there_ for Junhong to find.

"Five minutes!" their choreo noona calls out, scrolling through texts in her phone. She frowns down at one text in particular, and then walks over towards the windows to make a quick phone call.

Junhong drinks the rest of his bottle of water and tries to focus.

"You know you can always come talk to me," Jongup says hesitantly, and suddenly he's close, skinship close, wrapping a sweaty arm around Junhong's waist and resting against Junhong's body. He looks up, eyes crinkling. "Even if you're taller than I am, you're still my little maknae."

Junhong feels himself smiling and blushing at the same time, ducking his head. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. He can't get the image of Jongup out of his head and it's like a transparency, like he's holding up a filter and seeing the sweaty, smiling Jongup before him and the dirty Jongup in his head at the same time. Junhong thinks he might want both of them.

His stomach hurts, and he doesn't know if he's happy or sad.

Jongup sees his expression and just hugs him tighter, until Junhong has to squirm away because he can't breathe. Jongup catches up him anyway, tickling that spot on Junhong's side that's extraordinarily sensitive, making Junhong cry out. He can't stop laughing, or blushing, and Jongup is relentless, tickling him until Junhong gives up and just lies down on the floor, conceding defeat. Jongup is straddling him and he holds up his fists up in victory as the rest of the members troop back in from their convenience store run.

"Maknae smash!" Jongup says, and everyone starts laughing. Junhong uses the distraction to shove his hips up, throwing Jongup off balance so Junhong can twist a leg out and knee Jongup in the solar plexus. Everyone laughs even harder as Jongup goes flying, looking surprised.

"Maknae _smash_ ," Junhong says, and Youngjae grins and hi-fives him as he holds down a hand to help Junhong up from the floor.

—

Junhong waits.

Junhong waits six long, long, long weeks, six weeks of nerves and anticipation and sudden, aching release. He waits until they're back on a plane to Japan and his 17th coming-of-age day has come and gone before he asks Himchan to sleep with him.

It's just the two of them, sitting in uncomfortable airport chairs, five in the morning and they've just landed and they have a long, long day ahead of them. The sun is glowing red and orange over the horizon. Junhong is tired of waiting.

Himchan turns and looks at him. He's wearing dark sunglasses and sipping his first Americano and he looks like he wants nothing more than to be back on the plane, sleeping. Junhong wants that too, but they're here now so it's time to get this shit started.

"Have sex with me," Junhong says. "Please, hyung." No point in sugercoating it.

"Aren't you asking the wrong person?"

"What?"

"I think you're asking the wrong person," Himchan repeats, sipping his coffee. He looks out the window. "I don't know if he's figured it out yet, but I think you've got as good a shot as anyone."

"Hyung," Junhong says, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"Jongup," Himchan says. Junhong swallows. He needs to be more careful, then. He's been too obvious.

"I don't want Jongup," Junhong says, and Himchan grins at him, licking his lips. He has his ajhumma face on. "Take your sunglasses off and say that to me with a straight face."

"Fine," Junhong says, turning to face the window. He keeps his glasses on. "I don't want him for this. I want you."

Himchan sighs, and bites his lip.

"Not that I'm not flattered," he says dryly. "But do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Just once," Junhong says, because he's dying for it, absolutely dying for someone to touch him. Himchan is his hyung and Himchan is hot and he's within reach and Junhong _knows_ that at the end of the day he's not going to turn him down.

Himchan likes sex, and as long as someone is attractive and available he's usually up for it. Sometimes he'll just stop sleeping at the dorms for a few days, at which point they all assume he's found someone to sneak off with. As long as he shows up for practice, none of them ask any questions. "Just once, come on, I can't—I just need to—"

"Okay, okay, hush," Himchan says, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly as Yongguk starts walking towards them, the others in tow. "I'll think about it."

"Hyung, coming from you that means yes," Junhong says. He can't help the smile that's breaking out on his face, cocksure and pleased. He licks his lips.

"Oh, shut up," Himchan says irritably, and ignores Junhong for the rest of the morning.

—

They haven't set any ground rules—

("You asked for this like an adult," Himchan said simply, as Junhong walked into the hotel room and locked the door behind him. "So I'm going to treat you like one. If you don't want to do something, speak up, okay?")

—and Junhong doesn't care, because Himchan is biting at his neck and shoulder, one hand slipping farther and farther down into the curve of Junhong's hip, and Junhong has one hand in Himchan's hair and one hand on his ass.

Junhong feels weird and elated and he doesn't really know what to touch but Himchan's made it clear that they don't have to bother with taking it slow. Junhong doesn't want to take it slow. He wants this, the overload of sensation, the steady beat that's building up between them.

"Seriously," Himchan pants, shoving at Junhong's clothing, tugging off his own. "You've never done this before?"

Junhong shakes his head. "Fast learner," he says, and bites down on Himchan's bottom lip. He's just copying what Himchan does to him, and then doing everything he's always thought about doing but never had the guts to, like running his palms all the way down Himchan's smooth, pale sides.

His fingers get caught on the sides of Himchan's underwear and Himchan covers Junhong's hands with his own and pushes them down.

"I want you to fuck me," Himchan whispers, straddling him, and Junhong kisses him harder, hard enough that he's worried he's gone too far. Himchan just smiles against his mouth and bites down on Junhong's tongue. "We need to get you off first, there's no way you're going to last."

"I—might—" Junhong starts to protest, and then he's groaning and rolling his hips up as Himchan suddenly ducks down, tugs Junhong's underwear off, and brushes his mouth over the head of Junhong's cock. Himchan pauses to look up at him, all eyelashes and pale angles. His pink lower lip rests against the head of Junhong's cock.

Junhong has the sudden realization that someone, somewhere has taken this photo before. It has to exist, because Himchan looks beautiful right now, and he obviously knows it.

"Please," Junhong says.

"I don't swallow," Himchan warns him, and Junhong nods fervently. Whatever Himchan wants is fine with him.

Himchan spits, letting it drip down onto the head of Junhong's dick and Junhong stares in fascination until suddenly everything is hot and wet and Himchan's mouth is on him and he's going to come. He wants to be embarrassed about it, but he barely even has _time_. He turns his head and bites down on the pillow so he doesn't yell.

Junhong lifts his hips when it hits him and Himchan pulls back, jerking him through the rest of his orgasm and appearing unconcerned when a stray drop hits him in the cheek.

That _,_ Junhong thinks. That was a bullet train. That was too much caffeine at 6am, his mind racing, his body unable to settle down. That was the rush of coming off stage.

God, he can't believe how hard he just came.

God, he can't believe how hard he just came on Himchan's _face_.

Junhong winces, and reaches down to wipe it off. It's only a tiny bit, but still.

"Sorry hyung," he says, trying to catch his breath. "I—"

Himchan shakes his head. He's keeping his mouth closed, and Junhong doesn't get it until Himchan meets him in the middle and kisses him again, and Junhong can taste himself on Himchan's tongue.

It's a sharp, bitter flavor. He's still half-hard, and his dick jumps. It's just on the edge of painful.

Himchan pulls back, cat-eyed and looking pleased.

"Here," he says, unfolding himself and gracefully standing up. He rummages around in his bag until he finds a package of cleaning wipes and then tosses them onto the bed. "Get yourself cleaned up. That was just round one."

"Okay hyung," Junhong says helplessly. His pulse is still pounding. He's out of breath, but he still wants to dance.

—

Sweat trickles down into the hollow of Himchan's collarbone and Junhong bends down and licks it off. He needs to distract himself. Himchan's head is thrown back and his mouth is open, and Junhong would be worried if Himchan wasn't the one pushing himself back on Junhong's cock.

Junhong is just staying still, as fucking still as he possibly can, even though every time Himchan gasps and whimpers he thinks he's going to die all over again.

Junhong tries, he really does, but he can't help himself and on the next slide down he inches forward. Himchan groans. Junhong hopes to god there's no one in the hallway right now, because he doesn't think they can be quiet.

Junhong wants to push and claw and bite and do anything other than stay still. He wants to give in to every instinct he has and just fuck into the warm body ( _Himchan_ ) that's drawing him in but he stays quiet, stays still, bites into his lip so hard he tastes copper and metal.

He looks up to see Himchan watching him.

"Good boy," Himchan says, licking his lips, and Junhong gasps out loud, his cheeks burning. He pulls out and they both fumble for the lube at the same time, two pairs of sticky hands and one slow, aching push.

Junhong wants to do this forever, wants to crawl inside and never let go because when people said sex was awesome no one mentioned how shoving your dick inside someone was like attaining fucking nirvana.

"You stayed so still," Himchan pants out, rolling his hips down in time with Junhong's slow, deep thrusts. "So—hot—"

"You told me to," Junhong whispers. At this angle he can't reach Himchan's mouth, but he can slide his hands over his biceps, his stomach. He can brace himself against the bed and watch the obvious pleasure in Himchan's face as Junhong bends him further in half.

"Faster," Himchan says sharply, and Junhong knows he's not in control and he doesn't care. He speeds his hips up, snapping his thrusts. He's going to have fingertip bruises on his biceps tomorrow. Himchan is holding on to him just as tightly.

"I want—wait, hang on," Himchan says, and pushes Junhong back. Junhong slides out and lubes himself up again, and waits for Himchan to arrange himself on his knees.

Himchan looks over his shoulder at Junhong, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

"I've never fucked someone taller than me before," Himchan says. Junhong freezes for a moment and then he has the sudden, insane urge to giggle. He doesn't know what kind of face he's making but all of a sudden Himchan starts laughing and then it's just—the absurdity of it all, the hilarity of it, has Junhong wrapping himself over and around Himchan and pressing his nose to the back of his neck.

Himchan cranes his neck around for a kiss.

"Do it really hard," Himchan says, and his eyes are dark and mischievous when they pull apart. "And really fast. Now's your chance to get me back for all those years of chores."

"Really, hyung?" Junhong says, unable to control the shiver that shoots up his spine. It's not about the chores, although he appreciates the offer. He just wants to fuck, oh god. He's been waiting so patiently.

"Yes, _really_ , you idiot, what, do you think I'm—oh _fucking—_ oh _fuck_ —" Himchan's head bows forward again, mouth open, his whole body responding in kind to Junhong's thrusts.

 _This_ is the music, Junhong thinks, as he slams his hips in over and over, as he grabs at all the sweaty, warm skin he can reach. This is the drop of the bassline, warm and rich and fast.

This is where it all connects, from the backbeat in his head to the heartbeat under the palm of his hand.

—

Their second world tour kicks off with another three sold-out shows in Seoul, and then they're on a plane to Germany less than twenty-four hours later.

Junhong is seventeen-and-a-half and he thinks Youngjae might be developing a slight drinking problem and also he needs to stop fucking Himchan.

He's more concerned about Youngjae, although Daehyun assures him it's all well in hand. Junhong knows it's mostly just—not a broken heart, but maybe one that cracked a little at the seams. Na Jiwoon had moved at Seoul from America at 14 and been taken on by TS at 17; she'd been older than most of their current trainees, but by then, she'd already had 14 years of dance, 10 years of vocal, and could speak fluent Korean, English, Japanese and Mandarin.

Youngjae had fallen hard and fast until she'd been passed over for TS's next rookie group and decided to accept JYP's offer instead.

Some days Junhong wants to tell Youngjae that he knows how it feels to want someone you can't have, but he doesn't, not really. Jiwoon and Youngjae had been a couple. They'd been in love, or something close to it—at least on Youngjae's side. Youngjae is mourning the loss of something he's experienced.

Junhong knows he'll never get who he wants in the first place, so he's fucking Himchan instead.

He'd feel worse about it if Himchan seemed to care. He suspects Himchan has similar reasons for occasionally texting him a time and an address, one that always turns out to be a hotel. They get a few hours off from being idols. Junhong doesn't have to think about Jongup, and Himchan doesn't have to think about—-

—well. It's pretty obvious who Himchan doesn't have to think about.

They steal a few hours in Munich and find a hostel, a third-floor establishment filled with backpackers who won't recognize them.

The single room is cheap, and they don't bother with condoms anymore; they're only fucking each other. There's no time to find anyone else.

—

"I still think you should talk to him," Himchan says, lighting a cigarette on the balcony when they're finished. Junhong shakes his head at the offered pack, and drinks from a plastic bottle of water instead. The city spreads out below them, wide and complicated as ever. All cities are.

"And say what?" Junhong says. He watches the cars go by below them. Europe is fascinating. He's never been anywhere like it. All he wants to do is stare, like the wide-eyed teenager he is.

"If I knew what to say, do you think I'd be sitting here with you?" Himchan says. His voice is sad. Self-mocking. It's not meant as an insult, and Junhong doesn't take it as one. He loves Himchan, in a way, but they both know it's not romantic.

This is safety. Convenience. A few hours off from the lies.

"Hyung, I don't think it's as hopeless as you think it is," Junhong says, even though Himchan hasn't asked for his opinion. Bang Yongguk's one true love is his music, but Junhong thinks Himchan might be a close second if Yongguk ever truly looked up and realized what's been there all along. In all the years that B.A.P has been together, he's never dated anyone. As far as Junhong knows, he's been as celibate as a saint.

Himchan laughs when Junhong points this out. "Gukkie is just...Guk," Himchan says tiredly. "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't eat or sleep if we didn't remind him to. He gets his kicks out on stage. He doesn't need anyone else."

"He needs _you_ ," Junhong says. Himchan bites his lip, looking away.

"As a friend, maybe. Why am I—you're my maknae, why am I even letting you lecture me about this?"

"Yeah, well, your maknae just fucked you in the ass," Junhong says. "Twice. I get lecturing rights until we leave the hotel."

"We never should have let you grow up so fast."

"You're the one who told me to start jerking off," Junhong says, nudging Himchan's shoulder, trying to get him to smile. "You have only yourself to blame for this one."

"I figured you were _straight_!"

"I am straight," Junhong deadpans, setting his water bottle down. "This is just a phase, remember? Koreans aren't gay."

Himchan snorts, amused.

"Ah," Himchan says, stubbing his cigarette out in the stumpy potted shrub on the tile deck. "Maybe I should just go to Bangkok after we get out of the army. Do you think I'd make a pretty girl?"

"I think Yongguk hyung would date you even if you looked like that plant," Junhong says. "Bangkok might be going overboard."

"Now you, _you_ could be a girl," Himchan says, shaking his finger at Junhong. "You have the cheekbones. And the figure. It's too bad you're so tall. Such a wasted opportunity."

"Or I could move to America and not give a shit," Junhong says.

"What about Jongup?"

Junhong looks out over the city. It's almost 11am; they need to get back to their actual hotel before someone wonders where they are. The sun is breaking through the clouds.

"I'd forget him eventually," Junhong says, even though it hurts to say it, even though he knows deep down that it's not true. His voice comes out sarcastic, a parody of all the times they've had this conversation before. "Come on, hyung. I'm not even eighteen. What do I know about love, right?"

—

The irony of walking in on Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung in a hotel room in San Francisco is truly hilarious. Yongguk's eyes are wide and terrified, hands clutching Himchan's hair, but Junhong just smiles, biting his lip and pulls the door shut. He didn't get a chance to catch Himchan's expression—his mouth was busy at the time.

Junhong leans up against the wall and laughs and laughs. He doesn't think this will ever get old. He laughs until he can't see straight, because he's happy for them and he's sad for himself but mostly because he just never, ever thought he'd see _Bang Yongguk_ look like a guilty child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

Or with Himchan's mouth around his dick, whatever.

—

Junhong wants to ask Himchan hyung what magic finally got Yongguk to pull his head out of his ass, but he's afraid to break the spell, so he doesn't.

Instead, Junhong and Himchan just smile at each other too much in photo ops and fan meets, making heart-hands and goofing off together. They don't talk about it, because there's really no need to. Yongguk continues to blush at the fans and promise to work hard and sometimes Junhong has to step on Himchan's toes so Himchan doesn't burst out with something incredibly inappropriate about how _hard_ Yongguk works.

Youngjae and Daehyun are both mystified, with Youngjae even going so far as to corner Junhong in the hotel lobby and awkwardly ask him if anything is...going on.

"Going on, hyung?" Junhong says innocently, giving Youngjae his best wide-eyed look.

"With...Himchan hyung," Youngjae says, looking bewildered. "He's not—I mean, you aren't, you wouldn't—"

Junhong grins. " _Please_ ," he says, rolling his eyes. "That's about as likely as Himchan and _Yongguk._ No way, hyung _._ "

"Oh," Youngjae says, looking relieved. "Okay."

"You worry too much, hyung," Junhong says, patting Youngjae on the back. "It's just aegyo."

"I mean—if it was—"

"If it was what?" Junhong says, still playing the innocent. He doesn't want to prolong this conversation, but if Youngjae has a problem with it, he needs to know.

"You know," Youngjae says.

"Hyung—"

"I'm just trying to be supportive!" Youngjae practically yells, looking miserable and confused, and Junhong can barely keep a straight face. A few people in the hotel lobby turn and stare at the two young men shouting in Korean.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide I want to sleep with Himchan hyung," Junhong says, and then sneaks away to a bathroom stall so he can laugh until he's silently wiping tears from his eyes.

—

"Youngjae hyung wants us to know he's supportive of our relationship," Junhong says, placing his hand on top of Himchan's during a lull in their interview with Rolling Stone in LA. They're not the only group there—it's a piece on the so-called "K-Pop Invasion," with several groups lined up for consecutive photoshoots and interviews—but there's a photographer looking right at them and Junhong knows it's going to end up online.

Next to them, Youngjae groans and hides his face in his hands.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, muffled.

"Hyung, I think you did," Junhong says kindly. "But it's okay. We're glad you accept our unconventional love."

Himchan grins evilly.

"What can I say, the younger ones have the best stamina." He pats Junhong's hand, giving him a very obvious once-over. "After 18—I'm just not interested."

"Is that a quote?" their translator says, looking confused.

"Yes," Himchan says, still patting Junhong's hand.

" _No_ ," Kang hyung says, glaring at Himchan with the force of a thousand suns.

—

It takes Jongup until they're on a plane to Brazil to ask Junhong about the Himchan thing.

"So why does everyone keep asking if you're fucking?" Jongup says, following Junhong into first class.

"Because Youngjae hyung's an idiot," Junhong says cheerfully, stowing his carryon above his head and ignoring the flight attendant's attempts to help him. There's really no point; he's practically tall enough to hit his head on the ceiling of the plane. "And he gave Himchan hyung ammunition."

"But I thought Jae-yah asked _you_ about it," Jongup says, handing his luggage up to Junhong so Junhong can stow it away. "That's what Daehyun hyung said." Junhong has the window seat, so he sits down and then waits for Jongup to get settled next to him.

"I may have said something to Himchan hyung," Junhong says innocently, sipping his Red Bull.

"During the Rolling Stone interview," Youngjae mutters, from behind them. "Could you have picked a worse time?"

"Actually, yes," Junhong says. "I could have picked a time when we were in a heavily Catholic country instead of Los Angeles."

"Stop using logic," Youngjae says, reaching over the back of the first-class seats to swat at him. Junhong ducks. "You know what I mean."

"Stop complaining, the fans are eating it up," Himchan says, coming up the aisle behind them. He looks ridiculous in bright orange sneakers, a teal hoodie, and huge pink sunglasses. Even Junhong isn't sure he quite approves, but then, it's 5am. Excuses can be made.

"It's weird," Daehyun says sleepily, already trying to melt into his plane pillow. He's seated behind Jongup.

"Get over it and become a citizen of the world," Himchan says, whacking him in the back of the head as he takes his seat across the aisle, next to Yongguk. Daehyun frowns at him.

Junhong snorts into his Red Bull and Jongup turns his head so only Junhong can see that he's laughing.

"Yongguk hyung, Himchan hyung is hitting me again," Daehyun says.

"Himchan, don't hit him," Yongguk says, yawning. He's already seated next to the window, behind Manager Kang. The rest of the crew is in business class. "Daehyun, don't be close-minded."

"But they're not _actually sleeping together,_ " Daehyun says, sounding suddenly scandalized. "They're not, right? Are they. Are you??" He sits straight up in his chair, peering at Himchan across the aisle with sudden fascination.

"Do I even have to answer that?" Himchan says, looking at Yongguk.

"Daehyun," Yongguk says, shaking his head. "How are you so...no. I assumed this was obvious, but no. Himchan and Junhong are not sleeping together. But even if they were, you should consider your choices and your judgments carefully before deciding to blindly follow old prejudices." He mostly sounds tired, but since they're the first words he's officially said on the subject, Junhong knows they're all listening.

Jongup looks at Junhong, and then mimes a rocket launching and then exploding in mid air, right on top of Daehyun's head.

Daehyun blinks at Yongguk. His eyes are impossibly wide.

"Okay," Daehyun says, sounding chastened. "I'm sorry, Yongguk hyung. I promise to be kinder and think more about my words next time."

"Thank you," Yongguk says. He manages a tired smile at Daehyun to show he's not angry. Daehyun smiles back, and Youngjae pats him on the elbow encouragingly.

Junhong slips his ear-buds in, and tries not to let the warm, happy feeling rolling around in his belly show too obviously on his face.

—

Junhong shares a room with Jongup when they get to Rio de Janeiro, as usual. They only ever switch it up when there's a good reason, like when they need to quarantine part of the band or when Junhong and Yongguk are working on lyric demos or something. Now that Himchan and Yongguk are a _thing_ —even if no one else knows it but Junhong—Junhong doubts they'll be much switching going on.

They have a full day of press and interviews once they arrive, and then a smaller showcase for 2,000 lucky members of the fanclub before their big concert tomorrow night. They arrive at the hotel around 9 with dinner already waiting. Junhong eats until he feels like he's going to fall over, and then begs off to his room for the night.

Jongup shows up a few hours later, stumbling into a dresser while Junhong is drifting in and out of sleep. Junhong sighs and sits up in bed, turning the bedside light on.

"Sorry," Jongup says sheepishly.

Junhong yawns. "Is everyone drunk?"

"Not really," Jongup says. "I mean, they're all still drinking downstairs. But I'm done, I need to sleep or I'm going to die tomorrow."

"I know the feeling," Junhong says. He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling while Jongup rattles around, showering and then coming out wrapped in a towel to get ready for bed.

Junhong never looks. It's taken a lot of self-restraint over the years, but he knows what Jongup looks like in underwear. He can imagine the rest. He doesn't need to add any fuel to the fire.

"So Youngjae is downstairs trying to explain to Daehyun hyung how two men have sex," Jongup says, falling into his bed and then rolling over to grin at Junhong. His eyes are hazy, soft around the edges.

Junhong groans and rubs at his eyes. "Please tell me he's not doing that in front of Kang hyung," Junhong mumbles.

"No," Jongup says, "they're at the bar. Dae still looked really confused when I left."

"This is turning into such a disaster," Junhong laughs. "Oh Youngjae-pabo. I hope Daehyun doesn't say anything stupid on camera."

"He just looked like he couldn't fathom it," Jongup says. He's grinning his rabbit grin, crooked and familiar. "Like, why would someone _possibly_ want to do that when there were women around?"

"Daehyun is straight as an arrow," Junhong says. "I hope Youngjae isn't nursing a hopeless crush or something."

"Nah. I think he thinks he's helping."

"Right," Junhong says. He yawns again, and the words slip out almost without his permission—something he's always wanted to ask, but never found the right time or place. Maybe he's just never had the courage, but it's late and Jongup is drunk and Junhong might as well know now. Maybe he can start moving on with his life.

"You never said what you thought about it," Junhong says.

"About what?"

"On the plane. You never—I mean."

"I think it's fine," Jongup says.

Junhong stares at the ceiling, trying to quell the hole that's suddenly opened up in his chest.

_Fine._

Jongup thinks it's fine.

Okay.

"I mean, people are people," Jongup says thoughtfully. "I don't know. I guess I think about it differently than everyone else."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Junhong says, frowning and rolling over so he can see Jongup's face.

"I mean—it's like. What's the difference between dancing with one person, and dancing with ten thousand on stage?" Jongup says thoughtfully. "You're still giving out the same energy. You're still moving your body the same way. But one is like...focused on one person. And one is just giving it out to everyone."

Junhong swallows.

"I think the difference is wearing clothes," he says lightly, because he thinks he knows what Jongup is rambling about, but he's not quite sure.

Jongup laughs. "Right. No, I just. All that stuff is like..." he waves his hand in the air. "Sometimes you can direct that energy, and sometimes you can't. Sometimes you're just...drawn to people."

"Yeah."

"So why fight it?" Jongup says, shrugging. "Who cares what you call it? Like, if it happens, it's okay. I don't know what Daehyun hyung is so confused about."

"Are you...you sound like you've thought a lot about this," Junhong says uncertainly. His heart is pounding, and he's suddenly wide awake. This is sounding less and less like another one of Jongup's weird rambling diatribes and more and more like a confession.

"I have," Jongup says. He yawns, stretches out.

"Oh," Junhong says.

"What, you mean you haven't?" Jongup says, looking at him curiously.

"Uh," Junhong says. "No. I mean. Yeah, I have."

"Then you know what I mean," Jongup says, satisfied. He grins another impenetrable grin at Junhong, and then he flops over on his side, getting comfortable.

"Right," Junhong whispers into the darkness, after he's turned out the light. "Sure. Yeah."

—

The coordi nunas are cranky the next morning, the sure sign of a night spent knocking back shots. Junhong gets his hair pulled more than once for not sitting still, but it's like there's an ocean in his chest and he's powerless to stop it. His hands are clumsy and slow and he feels like he's fifteen again, distracted by everything. He can't stop thinking about Jongup and his lazy, casual confession.

Or—something.

Junhong wishes his best friend would be _a little more direct_ sometimes, but then he wouldn't be Moon Jongup, so it's futile to hope. At least he hadn't made the entire thing into a metaphor about food.

Once they're primped enough for rehearsal—color rinses, skin treatments, split ends trimmed—they pile into a bus and manage to sneak into the venue mostly undetected. It's only 10am, but Junhong knows they'll be here the rest of the day.

The venue is huge and full rehearsal isn't until noon, so when Junhong and Jongup stumble across a room full of Capoeira mats while wandering around, it's easy enough to get permission to practice their stages on them. They pile them up in the center of the floor and text Kang hyung to let him know where they are, and then they do a few run-throughs of tonight's choreography before moving on to the new stuff they're trying to perfect.

Jongup's been trying for a full 2-rotation backflip for ages, with mixed results because Kang hyung doesn't want him to break his neck. It's all about the height, and Junhong spots him for a while as Jongup tries to hit that elusive four-foot mark before he tucks in for the roll.

"Okay," Jongup says, breathing hard as he hits the mats for at least the twentieth time. He looks up at Junhong. "Do you think if we call for water they'll bring it to us?"

"Maybe?" Junhong says, pulling out his phone. "It's still only 11. We could go find some."

"But you still need to practice your handstands," Jongup says.

"Hyung, last time we did that, I kicked you in the face." Junhong still hasn't quite gotten his one-handed handstand down yet.

"It was a love tap," Jongup says, grinning up at him. He has a fond expression on his face, and he's sweaty and perfect and Junhong suddenly doesn't know how he manages to get through each moment with Jongup without going insane. He doesn't know how he manages to go on stage every night and dance with him. "I didn't mind."

Junhong swallows.

"I think we need water first." he says, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. He can't practice with Jongup any more right now. "Let's go find some."

—

Junhong turns 18 in Argentina, and the staff throws him a surprise party after the show. He'd been told they were going out to eat somewhere but instead there's a room booked in the hotel and a huge spread of food and an open bar. Junhong covers his face and laughs and hugs all of his hyungs, because he knows they put this together and also because his cake is a giant picture of him at 14, fast asleep and drooling on the practice floor.

"Well, you wouldn't stop growing," Youngjae says, when Junhong protests. "We had to do something to remind you to respect all of your hyungs."

"I respect all of my hyungs very deeply," Junhong says, turning to face them and bowing. He wants to be serious for a moment before all the fun begins. "You've all taught me so much. I am thankful and honored to be your maknae."

"Always so _serious,_ " Daehyun groans, shaking his head, but the rest of his band is clapping and smiling and looking at him fondly, so Junhong knows they know he means it.

"Now, Jonguppie-ah, why didn't you delete that picture like I told you to?" Junhong says, jumping on Jongup and grabbing in a headlock. He expects Jongup to try and pull away, but Jongup just holds on, twisting so Junhong is hugging him instead of strangling him.

"It was too cute to delete!" Jongup protests. "You were so tired. I mean, some of the other ones are good too, but that one was the best for the cake."

"Exactly how many pictures do you _have_ of me sleeping?" Junhong asks dubiously.

"I don't know," Jongup says thoughtfully. Junhong looks down at him and Jongup looks up, lips parted in a smile and for a second he almost thinks—

—but no, they're at a party, _his_ party. Their hug is starting to get awkward, even, so Junhong just pulls away and shakes his head.

"A fool and a genius," he says, trying to lighten the mood. "And a very creepy best friend, apparently."

"You look pretty when you sleep," Jongup says, and then wanders over towards the bar.

Junhong gapes after him.

"You probably shouldn't propose in front of the whole staff," Himchan whispers, startling Junhong with a hand on his shoulder from behind. "Kang hyung might actually have a heart attack."

"That wasn't me!" Junhong whispers back. "I didn't—I was trying to. I don't know. Put him in a headlock!"

"And yet somehow you ended up like that," Himchan murmurs, looking amused

"I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine, no one noticed," Himchan says. "But be more careful next time."

" _Hyung_ , _I'm not doing anything_ ," Junhong hisses, feeling desperate. "We're not doing anything. _We aren't a couple._ "

Himchan gives him a long, searching look.

Junhong looks back, meeting his eyes. He feels helpless. That ocean is back in his chest again, and he doesn't know if he's about to sink or swim. He doesn't know what he's doing. Jongup was supposed to be his Never-land. The guy who was always perfect and just out of reach.

Jongup is beautiful and funny and strange, and Junhong suddenly feels like running away in terror.

"Drink up," Himchan says finally, clapping Junhong on the shoulder. "I think there's a conversation you need to have with someone. But before you do that—go online and watch some of your stages."

"Stages?" Junhong says, bewildered. His stomach hurts. "Which ones?"

"Yours and Jongup's," Himchan says. "Trust me. You'll know what I mean when you see them."

—

Sneaking out of his own birthday party is less hard than Junhong thought it would be, even at his current height. He just waits until everyone is appropriately distracted by the sudden arrival of a karaoke machine, and then slips out one of the ballroom doors so he can sneak his way up to his hotel room.

He could just go online and find something on his phone, but there's something about the way Himchan had said it that makes him want to try and watch it on his iPad.

They're deep into the the tour, so it's not hard to find video of their recent stages. Hell, he could watch _tonight's_ stages if he felt like it—fuzzy previews are already beginning to show up on online—but he pokes around until he finds something from last week that's actually decent quality.

On their last world tour, he and Jongup had been the schoolboy maknae line, freestyling it up with a combination of Bbang's "DJ"ing and then a performance of Never Give Up. They're still the maknae line, but this year's stage has done away with schoolboy uniforms and replaced with them swagger. Junhong watches as the lights go down and the spots come out, as he fakes "wandering" across the stage with his hood up and headphones in until he "bumps" into Jongup and his crew and manages to "start trouble."

It's a silly rendition of a dance-off, a more expanded version of some of their earlier stages, but Yongguk's mix for the battle is amazing, and the stage itself lets them show off so many of their new moves. It's set right before the whole band streams back on at the introductory whistle for "No Mercy," and it's been getting the crowd pumped up like nothing else.

It had been a good idea turned into a great performance, except Junhong's never actually seen it. He's watched their practice videos, but he's never watched them perform it in front of a live audience.

The cam is close and steady, so he can see every expression on both of their faces—Jongup's mock outrage, the way he'd had to turn his head towards the backdrop to hide his sudden laughter at Junhong's overly shocked expression.

Watching like this, Junhong can see all the little moments where he forgets and drops his own character. He's supposed to be facing outwards during Jongup's moves so he can act unimpressed and work up the crowd, but sometimes they miss a cue and then all he can see is the admiration in his own face as he watches. He can see the way Jongup will finish and look to Junhong and they're supposed to be giving each other _attitude_ , fuck, they're supposed to be trying to impress one another but instead they're just grinning like idiots.

Junhong swallows and hits fast forward, until he's at the place in the choreography where they've finally agreed to be dance buddies, or whatever; in his head he thinks of it as the place where they start spotting each other, but on stage, all he can see is the way they move so effortlessly together. Every time Junhong reaches his hand out Jongup is there; every time Junhong spins backwards to reveal Jongup's handstand—and then help him get on his feet again—

Junhong pushes the iPad away, biting his lip and closing his eyes. He doesn't want to see this. He doesn't want to see the absurd intimacy that they've somehow managed to hide in front of hundreds of thousands of people. He doesn't want to see all the ways in which they never stop touching each other. He doesn't want to see the way Jongup's once-over's are sometimes for the crowd—a hip cocked, a disbelieving grin, _can you believe this little punk?_ —and sometimes they're just for Junhong alone.

Those are the ones that end with them smiling at each other so hard, Junhong can feel the phantom ache in his jaw.

Junhong wants to go downstairs and tell Himchan that he was wrong. He wants to say that he watched the videos and didn't see anything special, just two bandmates and dancers who've been practicing together daily for almost five years now.

The problem is that that statement would be lie, and both of them know it.

The problem is that Junhong's seen other dance lines that have been together twice as long, and are only half as good. He and Jongup are something else—constantly aware of each others' presence, constantly moving to a hidden beat that only the two of them can hear.

—

"Junhong? Jonhonggie—Ah!" Jongup says, ducking into their shared room and then catching sight of Junhong. Junhong has his back up against the wall, because it feels nice and cold. Solid. He could use some solid in his life right now.

"Why are you hiding up here?" Jongup says, crossing the room to Junhong's bed. "And why are you—" he glances down, looking at Junhong's iPad. "Watching vidoes of our stages? Junhonggie-ah, this is not the time to be worried about practicing." Jongup sits down on the corner of Junhong's bed, reaching out to muss up his hair. "Come downstairs. We were worried something happened to you."

"We?"

Jongup rubs the back of his newly shaved undercut, ducking his head. His hair right now is a little like Youngjae's pokemon hair during Power, only not as stupid. Chocolate noona apparently learned her lesson, because Jongup's hair is now just a longish brown sweep with highlights of dark red in it, something he can push back from his face in a high and messy fauxhawk. Junhong likes it.

"...I was worried," Jongup says eventually. "It's your birthday. Come downstairs and have fun. Don't sit up here all alone."

"Yeah," Junhong says, and he tries for a smile but he knows exactly how much he fucks it up by the way Jongup's eyes widen. He's never been very good at hiding his feelings. He sighs, looking down at the crumpled bedspread in his hand. He might as well rip the Band-Aid off, and they can...talk about it. Or not talk about it, if there's nothing to talk about. Junhong doesn't even know anymore. Maybe he's just making shit up because he's tired and lonely. Maybe he's been in love with Jongup for so long that he'll turn any scrap of unexpected affection into a false hope.

The rational thing to do in this situation, Junhong thinks, would be to tell Jongup he's in love with him. Or even tell him that Junhong is gay - that might be a good start.

Instead, he says, "Why do you teach me how to dance differently from everyone else?"

Jongup frowns at him, telegraphing silent confusion.

"You...with the others, you just show them, and you explain, " Junhong says. "And maybe you'll touch them sometimes if they're really out of place or if they're going to hurt themselves. But when it's just us, you—" Junhong doesn't know how to say this. It makes his cheeks flame. "You touch me more. You show me how to do it but we're always really close, and you put your hands on my hips, and—I—" Junhong falters.

"Do you want me to stop? I can stop. If it's bothering you. We just always—"

"No," Junhong whispers. "I don't. I just want to know why."

Jongup scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't know," he says eventually. "At first it was just because it seemed like you learned better that way. And I knew you didn't mind me touching you, so it was—I don't know. It seemed okay. _I_ liked teaching you better that way."

Junhong swallows.

"I guess the answer is because I want to," Jongup says slowly. "I...like it. And I don't really know why."

"Jongup, I'm gay," Junhong blurts out.

"Okay," Jongup says.

Junhong frowns. "That doesn't freak you out?" he says uncertainly.

"Considering the general tone of the party going on downstairs...." Jongup drawls. "No. Not really."

"Oh, god," Junhong says, scrubbing his hand over his face and wincing. This whole trip is just....absurd. "Right. I forgot."

"Hey," Jongup frowns, reaching out and catching Junhong's hand. He pulls it away from Junhong's face and holds on. "Hey. It's okay."

"Yeah," Junhong says bitterly. "It was okay when it was a _joke_."

"And it's okay when it's...not a joke," Jongup says slowly. "I mean. Like I said, I didn't...I don't. I guess I sort of...know how you feel."

Junhong stares down at their clasped hands.

"Can you just stay here tonight?" he says, after a long moment where he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't know what's going on and he's tired and confused and he just wants something to make sense. He hasn't—he hasn't slept in the same bed with Jongup since he was 15, but it always made him feel better. Even if everything is weird between them right now.

"Yeah," Jongup says, nodding, already standing up to change out of his clothes. Junhong doesn't even bother standing up; he just shrugs out of his jeans and then reaches out his hand as Jongup tosses him a pair of sweatpants.

Jongup strips down to his boxers, as usual, and Junhong pauses.

"Can you put a shirt on?" Junhong says.

Jongup looks down at himself in confusion, like there's something wrong with his body.

"No, I mean—" Junhong starts laughing. "Just put on a shirt on," he says tiredly, pushing everything off his bed. "Unless you want this to get really awkward, really fast."

" _Oh_ ," Jongup says, suddenly understanding. "Ah. I—right."

"I hate my life," Junhong says, shoving his face into his pillow. His words come out garbled. "Have I told you lately that I hate my life?"

"No," Jongup says, pulling a large black T-shirt on over his underwear. "I mean, today's your birthday. You shouldn't hate your life. You should be happy." He turns off all the lights except the one next to Junhong's bed, and then he pushes the covers back and slides underneath them, next to Junhong.

Junhong keeps his face stuck in the pillow for a while—whatever, it's comfortable—and then he finally makes himself turn his head and look at Jongup.

Jongup is lying on his side, just staring at him. Junhong has always liked the fact that Jongup rarely apologizes for staring at people. Junhong gets the sense that Jongup knows it's impolite and doesn't particularly care. He's found something very interesting about that person, and they'll just have to wait until he's done.

Junhong lets him stare for a while, until he gets tired of being the focus of all of Jongup's attention. He reaches out and flicks him on the nose, while at the same time making a horrific face that makes him look like one of the hundreds of Shíshī they saw in the Forbidden City in Beijing.

"Stop staring," Junhong says.

"I like looking at you," Jongup says quietly.

"That—doesn't really mean anything," Junhong says quickly. "You know that, right? Like I like looking at lots of people, it doesn't mean—"

"It's different with you," Jongup says. He closes his eyes and sighs for a moment, and then he pushes at Junhong's shoulder, motioning for him to roll over. It's silly that Junhong still likes being the one on the inside—he's a foot taller than Jongup, at least—but it always made him feel...safe. Jongup obviously hasn't forgotten.

"I meant what I said," Jongup mumbles, drawing Junhong in closer when Junhong tries to keep a careful distance. He doesn't know what they're...he doesn't really know where this is going. Jongup tightens his arms around his stomach, though, and Junhong goes willingly. Something inside of him begins to relax.

Jongup is really nice and warm.

Jongup presses his nose to the nape of Junhong's neck. "The other night," Jongup clarifies, after Junhong doesn't answer because with Jongup, that statement could apply to a thousand different things. "I don't think it matters. I think sometimes you just find a person and...they get you and you get them and that's all that matters."

"I—" Junhong laughs nervously. "Jongup-ah, are you trying to help me sleep, or keep me up all night with nerves?"

"Trying to help you sleep," Jongup says, a smile curling against Junhong's skin. "Because I'm talking about you. I don't do this with any of the other hyungs, do I?"

Junhong swallows, trying to still his racing heart while Jongup turns away for a moment to turn off the bedside table lamp.

"No," he whispers. He feels Jongup reach out and hesitantly thread their fingers together, and then draw Junhong back in so they're close, even closer than they were before. Jongup has managed to fit himself perfectly to Junhong's silhouette, but he's solid enough to lean back against. Junhong feels something else inside himself relax, strings across his ribcage held tight, strings he didn't even know he was holding.

"Go to sleep," Jongup whispers, squeezing Junhong's hand. His breath is warm and familiar on Junhong's neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

—

Jongup holds Junhong's hand in the airport lounge next morning, fingers brushing, subtle enough that it's impossible to notice. They're all crammed in with their luggage and carry-ons and fan gifts. The plane is overbooked. No one is going to notice if Jongup holds Junhong's hand underneath a sweatshirt, two gift bags, and Himchan's plane pillow. It makes Junhong feel both safe and wanted.

Jongup had kissed him that morning, both of them waking up on the same pillow, fuzzy with sleep and brain-static. Somehow that had translated into kisses, into Jongup's mouth on Junhong's lips and his hands smoothing over the secret curves of Junhong's jawline. Junhong didn't have time to be nervous, and he's almost grateful for that fact.

He woke up kissing Jongup and it was slow.

Easy.

Junhong lets his head fall to the side, so it's resting both on Jongup's shoulder and Himchan's pillow. Himchan hasn't noticed it's missing yet, and Junhong isn't going to tell him. It's comfortable as fuck. He's not giving it up until Himchan makes a fuss about it. He'd given it to Jongup to hold, and and he and Junhong is going to take full advantage of that until their plane boards. 

Across the tiny aisle, Youngjae and Daehyun have come to some kind of sleeping agreement about who is allowed to drool on who, and they're both passed out hugging their backpacks. Kang hyung and the coordi noonas are clutching their coffee like a lifeline. Himchan is bitchy and hungover; Yongguk is hungover and monosyllabic.

"What do we do if one of us gets left behind?" Jongup yawns, gently knocking his head against Junhong's.

"They split us up with security and some of us take another plane," Junhong guesses. "Yongguk hyung will probably martyr himself and offer to stay."

"Himchannie hyung will be insufferable if that happens."

"Not our problem," Junhong says, yawning back. Stupid catching yawns. "Hyungs can take care of themselves. We're the precious maknae line. We'll be on that plane."

"After all we do for you," Jongup says, shaking his head and smiling. "Such an ungrateful little mercenary."

"Maknae," Junhong reminds him, snuggling closer. No one cares. Everyone's too wrapped up in their own affairs, be it sleeping or texting or bemoaning the existence of sunlight and early flights. "I get to be selfish sometimes. It's in the contract."

—

Two weeks in Korea before they leave for another leg of the tour. Two weeks of practice, two weeks off, two weeks where they still wake up before dawn but Junhong can at least catch a nap in the afternoons.

Two weeks where life feels normal again.

They track vocals for a song that Yongguk is working on for their next album. They practice. They work on the rough spots. They try out new ideas with the choreo team, to be filmed and set aside until the next comeback.

Jongup touches Junhong a lot. He runs his palm down Junhong's back while they're all walking somewhere. He brushes their fingers together. He sits close to him on the couch while Junhong is writing and Jongup is playing on his DS3. He squeezes by him in the bathroom when Junhong is brushing his teeth, close enough that Junhong can smell his shampoo.

Junhong responds by tickling him in the dorm, because it's funny and he's so much taller and Jongup is so much stronger that it's almost an even match. He usually ends up pinned to the kitchen floor, wishing all of his hyungs would magically disappear so they could just _make out already._

He's so strung out, so full of nervous energy all the time. There's always someone around. There's always someone awake, even in the middle of the night, because Yongguk doesn't sleep that much, and neither does Junhong.

Kissing Jongup once was not enough.

—

Jongup meets Junhong at the door of the bathroom again for the sixth time that week, clean and damp and wrapped only in a towel. It's 1:45am in the morning.

Junhong makes a snap decision.

"Hyung," he says, slightly louder than normal. He pushes at Jongup's shoulder so that Jongup has to back up, and then carefully toes the bathroom door shut until it's only open a crack. "Hyung, ah, I think the showerhead is broken again. Was it working for you?"

Jongup blinks at him for a moment, and then catches on.

"Let me see it," Jongup says, over-loud. "Maybe I can fix it."

They stare at each other for a moment. The bathroom as damp and hot as a sauna after five consecutive showers. Jongup's hair is pushed back, wet and dripping, away from his face. He's half-hard under the towel.

Junhong shoves him up against the bathroom wall and kisses him.

Jongup goes willingly. More than willingly, stretching up on his toes, grabbing at Junhong's hair and _tugging_. His mouth is hot and wet and Junhong wants to run his hands over Jongup's body for the rest of time. He can't help the way his hands settle on Jongup's hipbones, practically caging them because Junhong has freakishly long fingers to go along with his freakishly tall everything.

They don't speak. They don't even whisper. All Junhong can hear is the sound of their breath, the wet noises their mouths make when they slide apart and then back together. Jongup is panting and pink-cheeked, and it's a good look on him.

Junhong is so distracted by the softness inside Jongup's mouth and his eyelashes and the way water droplets taste when they cling to Jongup's neck that he doesn't realize that Jongup's towel has fallen down. He doesn't realize that his thumbs are pressing in hard enough to bruise, until Jongup whines with pleasure into Junhong's mouth and bites back, his hands tugging even harder on Junhong's hair. It stings, and Junhong relishes the sensation. He likes this side of Jongup. He likes that they aren't being careful.

They don't realize that maybe they aren't exactly as subtle as they thought until the door creaks open and a tired Yongguk sticks his head in.

"Junhonggie, did you fix the showerhead?" he says, frowning at the lack of actual shower...noises. Then he turns to look the other way, behind the door.

Junhong knows there's really no damage control for this sort of thing, but he at least tries to shift his body so Yongguk can't see Jongup's incredibly obvious hard-on.

"Hi," Jongup says, trying for calm and collected, and ending up at breathless.

Yongguk locks eyes with Junhong for a long moment, giving him an unreadable look, and then he nods slightly and pulls the door shut.

"Uh," Jongup says.

"Oh thank fucking god," Junhong mumbles. "Oh thank god I never cashed in that favor, oh my god." He drops his folded up towel on the floor, so he can sink to his knees on it.

"What just happened?" Jongup says, looking shell-shocked. They're speaking in half-whispers.

"What happened is that last time it was Himchannie hyung on his knees, and me behind the door," Junhong says, already reveling in the taste of Jongup's skin under his mouth. He skates his teeth lightly over Jongup's hipbone. "I covered for them and didn't tell. He's returning the favor."

Jongup looks down at him in shock. "Himchannie hyung and Yongguk..."

"Since at least San Francisco," Junhong says. "You've done this before, right?"

"Not with a guy," Jongup says, biting his lip as Junhong licks a slow, winding path over his stomach, ending up at the base of his cock. Jongup groans and throws his head back, and then winces when his head hits the tile.

"Hyung, please don't brain yourself," Junhong says, smiling against Jongup's skin. "And it's the same thing, so whatever. You don't care, right? It's okay?"

Jongup looks down at him. Junhong kisses his stomach again, and scratches his fingers over Jongup's hips.

"I was going to take you out to a _movie_ ," Jongup pants, looking slightly pained. "I was waiting until Wednesday. I wanted to take you on a _date_. I didn't want you think that it was just about—"

"I like movies," Junhong says. "I still want to go to a movie with you."

"I feel like we're doing this backwards," Jongup says.

"We don't have to," Junhong says, trying to keep things light even if his mouth is literally watering. Jongup's dick is so fucking nice. Just like the rest of him, really, but it's just—Junhong hasn't seen all that many dicks but seriously, some people have weird looking ones and Jongup's is just like. Fuck, it's really, really nice.

"Wait, are you waiting for me to say yes?" Jongup says. He brushes his fingers over Junhong's mouth, and Junhong licks at them on instinct, sucking on his index finger. "Fuck, I mean, _yes_ , obviously—"

Junhong grins, wrapping his hand around Jongup's dick and sucking the head into his mouth. Jongup is salty under his tongue, leaking precome everywhere. Junhong tries not to moan. Jongup's hips lift on instinct, and Junhong presses them back against the bathroom tiles.

"I've never been on a date," Junhong says, pulling off. He licks his lips and looks up. "That sounds really nice, hyung." He's being honest. His chest feels warm and he knows he's blushing. Maybe it's backwards that he's blushing about the date and not the blowjob but it just feels...nice. To be wanted.

"Your _mouth_ ," Jongup says, rubbing his fingers over Junhong's lips again. Junhong takes them in the next time he goes down, sucking on them alongside Jongup's cock. He can feel Jongup's thigh's shaking under his hands, and he thinks it's taking a lot of effort for Jongup to stay quiet. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, biting down on his lip until it looks red and swollen and painful.

"I wish we could be louder," Junhong says, pulling off to breathe again. He sucks a hickey into Jongup's inner thigh, because it's there and he can and know he'll know it's there. It makes more of that warm feeling rise up in his chest. "I wish you could tell me all those things you keep biting back."

"I—Ahh—No, you don't," Jongup says, his chest heaving as Junhong goes back to sucking him. He tangles his hands in Junhong's hair. "It's stupid, I say stupid things. Like, like dirty things, and I—"

Junhong snickers around Jongup's cock, and Jongup's mouth falls open. He grabs on to Junhong's hair and tugs, increasingly desperate, his hips rocking up. Junhong closes his eyes and goes down further, because what the hell, he's not going to pull off. He wants to feel Jongup come down his throat. He's been jerking off to this for _years._

Jongup's hands become increasingly gentle as he rides out his orgasm, until he's boneless and petting Junhong's hair. Junhong pulls off and licks his lips.

"Hyung, it's really sweet how you're trying to protect me," Junhong says, resting his cheek against Jongup's stomach. He makes sure he sounds earnest, because he really does think it's sweet. It's just that Jongup doesn't know about Himchan, and that's—-a whole conversation that's going to have to come later. Much later. "But trust me. I haven't been innocent since I was about sixteen. And I _know_ I'm less innocent than you are."

Jongup slides down the wall, still panting. He licks his lips, his eyes moving back and forth between Junhong's eyes and his mouth, and then he leans in, cupping Junhong's jaw as he licks the taste of himself out of Junhong's mouth with a strangled moan.

Junhong smiles under his mouth, pushing his tongue forward so Jongup can catch as much of the taste as possible.

"So," Junhong says, when they finally break apart. There's a sticky thread of spit and come still stretched between them. Junhong delicately wipes it away from the corner of Jongup's mouth. "What movie should we go see?"

—

There's a note under Junhong's pillow the next night, a note he only notices when he lays his head down and hears an unfamiliar crinkling noise. The hyungs are still up and moving around so he rolls on his side, shielding the note with the cover of his journal.

 _"Not in the dorms,"_ the note says, in Yongguk's handwriting. Junhong rolls his eyes. Like his hyungs are suddenly celibate now that they're back, and plan on being so every time they're in Korea. Junhong thinks that's a load of bullshit.

He's about to shove the scrap of paper in between his journal pages for later disposal when he notices the other side. There's an address written on the back in pencil in Himchan's messy scrawl. It's in a neighborhood in Seoul that Junhong doesn't recognize.

 _Hah,_ Junhong thinks to himself, grinning as he stashes the piece of paper carefully in the inner pocket of his journal. He tries to look up and catch Himchan's eye, but Himchan seems to be studiously avoiding his gaze.

Whatever he's reading on his MacBook must be really amusing, though.

—

On Wednesday, Jongup buys them both tickets to see a movie called Zero Darkness. They cover up their hair and wear masks to avoid being recognized, and they're two out of only sixteen people in the theatre at the 10:00am morning showing. Jongup is happily digging into an entire bag of candy. Junhong makes a horrified face at him when Jongup offers him some.

"We ate breakfast like half an hour ago," Junhong says. He has popcorn and a soda and dried squid, because he knows he's going to want some, but that's it. He doesn't need to eat a pound of chocolate with a large soda right now.

They end up watching the movie and eating, more than they end up being gross and romantic. Junhong doesn't really mind. He'd rather hang out with Jongup his best friend and make fun of a bad action movie then hangout with some weird version of romantic Jongup the Casanova. It's nice to be able to just sit in the dark and mimic the character's screams together and whisper bad dialogue into Jongup's ear and then peck him on the lips when Jongup turns to reply. Jongup's surprised expression is hilarious every time. He tugs Junhong in when some extra is biting the bullet onscreen, and his kisses taste like chocolate.

"Where now?" Junhong says, after the movie's finished and they've come back out, blinking, into the sunlight.

"I know a few places," Jongup says. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Junhong says. All of them are so unused to having free time that they never know what to do with it anymore. He looks up at the sky. "It's pretty nice out."

"There's a big park near where my grandmother used to live," Jongup says. "It's an older neighborhood. I don't think anyone would recognize us. We could go there."

Junhong smiles, because the wind is brisk but the sun is warm on his face and Jongup's hair is tipped at the edges with gold. Going to the park sounds nice, but—he feels like he should at least let Jongup know about Himchan's note.

"Ah," Junhong says, wondering how to brooch the topic. He doesn't want to seem too forward. Or—more forward than that time two days ago when he blew Jongup in the bathroom. That was probably forward.

"There's, um, another option," Junhong says. "But maybe not for today." They pause in front of a convenience store while Junhong digs out his journal and shows Jongup both sides of the note. Jongup snorts in amusement when he sees Himchan's handwriting on the back.

"Of course he would know a place," Jongup says, shaking his head. "Although I don't know why he didn't just tell _me_."

"Himchan's known since I was sixteen," Junhong blurts out. "About me, I mean."

"You mean he—"

"It's a really embarrassing story, it's not important," Junhong says quickly. "Just. He knows. He's known for a long time. It's something we...have in common."

Jongup looks at him for a long moment, still holding the piece of paper. Then he hands it back to Junhong, who puts it back in his notebook. Jongup stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts walking again, and Junhong keeps up with them.

They're silent for the space of three city blocks.

"I see," Jongup says eventually. His voice is neutral.

Junhong looks down at his shoes, at his expensive, fan-gifted shoes that he'd never own if he hadn't stumbled into this job and this career. He wonders if he'd still be standing here with Jongup on this street corner; if maybe Jongup would be his college boyfriend and Junhong still wouldn't be able to tell anyone and if he'd still be the one who always knew how to make Jongup smile.

"We were both really lonely," he says softly. "I don't know if we knew how much until afterwards. But we were."

"Do you love him?" Jongup's tone is startling and direct. He's looking Junhong straight in the eye all of a sudden. They're stopped on the sidewalk, standing to one side to let the traffic flow by.

"No?" Junhong says, blinking. He tries not to gape at Jongup. "Or not—I mean, I love him as my _hyung_. But it wasn't like that. It was just—we both really cared about someone...unattainable. So it was the next best thing."

"And he wanted Yongguk," Jongup says slowly.

"And got him," Junhong says, raising an eyebrow and earning a small smile from Jongup.

"And you wanted—"

"Are you really going to make me spit it out?"

"I don't do casual," Jongup says, utterly serious. "You know me. You know I don't work like that. If you still care about him even a little bit—"

"I've been in love with you since I was fifteen," Junhong says, cutting him off. He knows his face is flaming. Better to rip the bandage off the wound than to draw it out. "Thanks for making me say it out loud, asshole."

Jongup stares at him with wide eyes. Next to them, a mother and her small child rush by, the mother dragging the child by the hand. Junhong thinks about how life just goes on, about how he can say something so monumental and the world just...keeps spinning.

It's strangely comforting. Sort of.

"I didn't know," Jongup says, eventually. "Really?"

"You're so—god, you're the biggest idiot, what did you think I was going to say?" Junhong says, rolling his eyes. "No, I'm madly in love with Kang hyung. Why do you think I'm here? With you? He shoves at Jongup's shoulder, half kidding and half actually annoyed at how stupid his hyung is sometimes.

"Why do you think I said all that stuff in the hotel? Why do you think I—No wait, just forget it," Junhong says, starting to actually get annoyed now. He feels like he's just been ripping himself open all week and while Jongup has been sweet and attentive and kind they've obviously not coming from the same background. Jongup hasn't spent years pining after his dongsaeng. He shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking again.

"Junhong, wait, wait up," Jongup says, hurrying to catch up with him. "I'm sorry. I was just being stupid and jealous, I'm sorry."

"I noticed," Junhong says.

"I won't do it anymore."

"Well that's good, because Himchan wrote that address down so _we could go and have sex_ ," Junhong says, not caring about the strange looks they're getting from passersby. He lowers his voice. "Not so he and I could have some secret rendezvous or something. He wrote that down for _us_. Not me."

Jongup looks down at his own feet.

"I just don't know what I'm doing," he says, after a long moment. "I'm supposed to be your hyung. I'm supposed to be the one in charge and instead you're the one who knows everything."

"You'll always be my hyung," Junhong says, softening. "Hey. Don't worry about that too much. We just have some catching up to do. Then you can be my jealous, dominating boyfriend all you want."

Jongup frowns.

"I'm kidding, if you do that I'll punch you in the face," Junhong says. "But seriously. Don't worry too much about being my hyung right now." He links their fingers together. "I think you'll have lots of time later. Not to mention the fact that it's literally part of your job description."

Jongup laughs, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Yeah," he says. "I guess it is."

"Do you even know where we are?" Junhong says, changing the subject. He's noticing all of a sudden that he's never been in this part of Seoul before. It's pretty and residential, or at least as pretty and residential as it gets.

"We're actually, ah—" Jongup looks around for a moment, his eyes unfocusing as he tries to get his bearings. "Um. We're pretty far away from that park I told you about, actually—"

"There's a big bus stop over there," Junhong says, pointing across the street. "Can we take the bus?"

—and we're really close to that address," Jongup finishes. "So."

"We'll have hotel rooms in Thailand," Junhong says hesitantly. He really doesn't want to pressure Jongup into this. "We don't have to go today. I just wanted you to know. For the future."

"We'll have hotel rooms, but not a lot of _time_ ," Jongup says, a smile starting to form on his face. "Fuck it. Let's go. Is it so bad that I just want to hang out and enjoy you for a while?"

Junhong can feel his cheeks pinking again.

"No," he says, ducking his head. "No. That's. Lead the way."

—

Himchan's mystery address turns out to be two floors of a nondescript looking apartment building on a nondescript street. The wind is still brisk, but a few heavy gray clouds have blown up. They hurry indoors before the rain.

They speak to the receptionist and ask to take the elevators to the sixth floor; at the mention of Himchan's name, she nods and smiles. She takes their ID's, briefly checks them against her computer before handing them back, then and then calls upstairs. After speaking with someone on her headset she waves them towards the elevators.

"You know," Jongup says thoughtfully, looking at the polished chrome of the elevator as they rise to the sixth floor. "It's like sometimes I think hyung can't get any stranger or creepier...and then he always surprises me."

"He creeps out of love," Junhong says.

On the sixth floor, they're shown to a small, well-furnished room by another pleasant, well-dressed woman, handed a pair of keys, and left alone.

Junhong has no idea what just happened.

"Did Himchan just let us use his private sex club membership?" Junhong asks, after he's waited a moment or two and nothing about this gets any less weird.

"I think it's more like, you get to pretend you live here if your house is far away and you want to pick up someone in town," Jongup says. He peeks behind the closed curtains. The clouds have given way to rain, hitting the glass with quiet plinks. "I've heard about places like this. Pricey, but you know. Money buys a lot of silence if you're trying to quietly cheat on your spouse."

"Or if you're gay and don't want anyone finding out," Junhong says. He feels like the last piece of the puzzle has finally slotted into place.

"I bet every time he uses his dad's money to pay for this place he gets off on it," Jongup snorts. "Or. Well. Doesn't get _off_ on it, but you know what I mean."

"I do," Junhong says, falling backwards down onto the large, comfortable bed with a pleased sigh. Thank god for Himchan and all of his massive daddy issues. "I really, really do."

—

Junhong keeps waiting for the part where the sex gets awkward, but it never comes. He keeps waiting for Jongup to pull away or freak out or even to simply say he's not cool with something, but Junhong should have known better.

Jongup likes being naked. He likes his own body and he likes Junhong's and for Jongup it's as simple as that. Sometimes Junhong wishes everyone could be Moon Jongup.

They don't talk much at first. Jongup climbs on top of him and his mouth tastes like candy. Junhong can hear the rain against the window and they make out until Jongup makes an executive decision that more skin is needed.

"Less clothing," Jongup says, sitting back on his heels and tugging his shirt and hoodie off.

"How much less?"

Jongup rolls his eyes. "Strip," he orders, and Junhong grins and shimmies out of his jeans. He makes a helpless noise the first time Jongup climbs back on top of him, the first time it's skin-to-skin and nothing else. Jongup groans and sucks a bruise into Junhong's collarbone, rolling their hips together.

Round one is quick, with Junhong reaching down to fist them both until they're both panting and desperate, barely ten minutes in. Junhong rubs his thumb over the head of Jongup's cock, closing his fist until Jongup has something to thrust into.

Jongup comes all over Junhong's hands and then surprises Junhong by palming them both and then reaching down to get Junhong off, hands still slick and warm.

"You're—uhn, into that, aren't you," Junhong pants. He can feel his balls tightening up. He's so close that it's hard to form sentences. "You like it when I smell like you, when I—" He moans, the rest of his sentence dying out as he comes with another wordless noise, longer and more drawn out this time.

"Yeah," Jongup says. He noses at Junhong's throat. "I do."

Junhong wants to chide him for being possessive, but there's a part of him that likes it.

"As long as you realize you're not _actually_ allowed to mark your territory," Junhong says.

Jongup laughs, standing up slowly and going to wash his hands in the attached bathroom.

"I don't know," Jongup says, crawling under the covers with Junhong when he comes back. He stretches his arms up over his head, cradling his head with a sigh. "That might drive them even more insane. Pheromones, right? You'd smell like _sex._ "

"At least fifty percent of our fans are way too young to know what sex smells like," Junhong points out.

"That's why it's genius," Jongup says, laughing. "They'll have no idea what hit them. You'll just literally bring them to their knees."

"Fine, you get to try and sell that one," Junhong says. _"Hey, hyung, I have this great idea. I'm going to come all over Junhong before the fan meets, okay?"_

"I wouldn't say it like that," Jongup says. "I'd use science."

"You're forgetting that Yongguk hyung is smarter than both of us. He'd see right through you." Junhong can't stop smiling.

"Most of the time we belong to everyone. _You_ belong to everyone. Sometimes I want to feel like I'm the only one who gets to have you. Is that so bad?"

Jongup rolls over, nestling himself into the crook of Junhong's shoulder and inhaling. He's smelling himself on Junhong's skin. It's weird and hot and weird that it's hot. Junhong isn't complaining. He knows what it's like to want something. He knows what it's like to burn so bright with it that it's the only thing you can see.

Zelos, the god of jealousy. Of zeel.

"No," Junhong says gently, turning his head to the side so he can kiss the top of Jongup's head. "Just can't let my hyung get too cocky, that's all."

Round two is slow and easy. Junhong doesn't think. He doesn't let himself anticipate, or expect, or analyze. He moves when he wants to move and cries out when he wants to cry out and Jongup is a fast learner and better at sucking cock than Junhong ever dreamed he would be.

The rain is heavy against the windowpanes as Jongup groans into Junhong's ear, biting down and leaving a mark they won't be able to cover up. He fists himself roughly and Junhong arches into it, biting his lip and baring his neck. He meets Jongup's eyes and thinks _come on_ , _do it,_ and Jongup comes all over his chest.

Junhong is spread out on the bed, pleased, sated. Jongup is the one to get up and wipe him down with a clean towel, and Junhong rewards him with long, lazy kiss for his efforts.

"What now?" Jongup says eventually, when they've finally separated to breathe.

"World keeps turning?" Junhong says, smiling. "Life goes on. The band goes on. We go on."

"And sometimes you're mine," Jongup whispers, his palm in the small of Junhong's back, his nose nuzzling at Junhong's ear. His tone is soft. Reverent. " Right? Just sometimes. Every once in a while."

"Love is a two-way street, Moon Jongup," Junhong says. The air conditioner in the room rattles softly, out of sync with the rain hitting the windows. It feels like they're in another world, but they aren't. Junhong knows that reality doesn't end at the door of a six-story apartment building. They have jobs. They have lives. "Sometimes you're mine, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: There is conversation and discussion of a sexual nature (and masturbation) when Junhong is 16, but not before. Junhong loses his virginity at 17. This story contains many scenes of explicit sex.
> 
> There is also an optional kink-flavored rather filthy NC-17 coda, if that's your thing. _Definitely_ heed the warnings on that one.


End file.
